augment the main courses.
The game room was set with extra card tables, a second dart board, Hazard dice, and a domino set of ivory, acquired while in Great Yarmouth, to augment the chess, backgammon, cribbage, and draughts tables already in place. In anticipation that the freeze and snows would escalate, ten pairs of skates were bought and the existing ones sharpened, the curling stones and brooms were brought from storage, and sleds were inspected for safety.
Darcy’s prized shovillaborde, a table version of the popular deck game shuffleboard, was polished and placed prominently to the right of the two billiard tables in the billiard room. Two years prior, Darcy had discovered the table in an auction house, thrilled beyond belief and paying an outrageous sum for the one-hundred-year-old relic fashioned after the boards favored by King Henry VIII.
An enormous, wooden floored room on the northern wing near the conservatory was dedicated to various indoor sports. The room had evolved over the decades, from what was originally designed as a smaller ballroom into a second game room. It did not have an actual name, usually being referred to as The Court due to the enormous netted court for tennis and the area by one wall for racquets. The floor was polished and new equipment purchased, including battledores and shuttlecocks for the game of the same name raging through London. The sunny chamber with wide curtain-less windows and a ceiling partially of glass additionally boasted a ninepin alley, shuffleboard deck, a miniature putting green with five holes, a quoits pin, and hopscotch squares.
Added together, it seemed a certainty that Christmas at Pemberley would be a raging success.
The emotions flowing through Darcy and Lizzy regarding the season varied, but one emotion absolutely shared was the priority in protecting Alexander. Darcy refused to allow his still recovering wife and fragile child to overextend, the very thought of them becoming ill sending frigid chills deep into the marrow of his bones. With typical Darcy dominance and severity, he bluntly reminded Lizzy that he would be in charge and would expect her to obey his orders in all matters. Lizzy flared in irritation briefly, but then laughed, Darcy frowning and preparing to puff intimidatingly, only to deflate and calm when she assured him she agreed and would bow to his will.
As it turned colder, Lizzy fretted constantly over Alexander, but the baby grew stronger, and his little body seemed to generate heat just as his father’s did. Nonetheless, Lizzy kept him close to her chest as much as possible, dressed in warm clothing, and wrapped with thick blankets. Every fireplace in the inhabited areas of the mansion blazed from sunrise to well after sunset, dispelling the bulk of the cold and keeping the residents comfortable.
Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived two days after the Bennets, galloping in amid a swirl of snowflakes. Another snowstorm, this one fairly mild, had struck that morning, making for an uncomfortable ride from his parents’ estate, but the battle-hardened soldier was impervious to the weather.
“Richard! Welcome, Cousin. You are just in time for luncheon.” Darcy approached with a warm smile.
“Hello, Darcy. Good to see you, although yours is not the Darcy face I most wanted to greet first. Thank you, Mr. Taylor.” He handed the last layer of jackets to the pile of over-clothing held by the butler, turning with a grin to clap his cousin on the back.
“We can readily divert to the nursery, as I assume this is your reference. Be warned, however: Alexander is asleep, so formal introductions must wait. Come, and while we walk you can tell me when your parents will be visiting.”
“We arrived at Rivallain last evening. Mother was more than prepared to arise with the sun and travel on, but father wanted to settle for a day or two. I rather believe that, as in most matters, mother’s will shall prevail and expect they will rattle into the courtyard tomorrow morning at the latest! She is anxious to meet your son and visit with Elizabeth, having brought the subject to the fore of all conversation at the breakfast table no less than a dozen times. I decided I needed to ride on if I wanted to see him myself, the women liable to monopolize all his waking moments discussing the joys of childbirth and motherhood!”
“You have no idea how accurate your jest, my friend. I have barely laid eyes on him since Elizabeth’s family arrived and he is mine. Quite annoying actually, so I am forced to rise with the late night feedings just to steal precious time alone.”
Darcy was speaking lightly, but Richard, who knew him so well, detected the undertone of irritation. In an attempt to soothe the easily somber Darcy, he said, “Surely you cannot be missing too much. After all, babies, so I am to understand, lie there as lumps and sleep all the time!”
Darcy bristled, the idea of his son a “lump” not appreciated, but one look at his cousin’s face brought laughter to the surface. “Very well, Colonel, we shall see. I have it on good authority that he is the most adorable child in the universe, and thus far, all who lay eyes on him have fallen hopelessly in love. Be cautious, my friend, as your heart will be wrested away!”
They reached the nursery, Darcy entering cautiously although the well-oiled door was unlikely to squeak. Mrs. Hanford glanced up from the dresser where she was folding a pile of clothes, smiling at her Master and nodding toward the cradle.
“Mrs. Hanford, this is my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. Richard, our wonderful nanny, Mrs. Hanford.”
“Madam,” Richard bowed gallantly, turning into the room to follow Darcy, who had crossed swiftly to the cradle. Alexander lay curled on his right side, pink hands folded beside his parted lips as if in sleepy supplication to the Almighty. Auburn curls lay heavy over his now perfectly round head, longer wisps brushing his brows; skin porcelain with ruddy cheeks marred only by a faint pinpoint rash across his chin. Both the nanny and excellent in- house doctor assured the Darcys that these scattered rashes were normal as his delicate flesh adjusted to the outside world of fabrics and soaps. Despite the trivial imperfections, Alexander was beautiful, his father’s assertions only a slim exaggeration, as everyone in the manor was adoring.
A softly smiling, prideful father competently bent with seeking hands to lift his son, Richard grabbing at his wrist. “Darcy, wait! Do not wake him!”
“He just finished eating and I know how to lift him without disturbing. Sit in the chair and you can hold him.”
Richard blanched, arms instinctively clasping behind his back as he shook his head emphatically. “I do not think that a wise plan at all! If I drop him, I am quite certain you will be perturbed!”
“Heavens, Richard. The mighty man of His Majesty’s Armed Forces who handles sword and musket in battle is afraid of a tiny baby?”
“Precisely. If I fail with any of those things, it is my own health and life that is forfeit.”
“Sit and quit complaining. Besides, you have held Annabella’s children, so stop pretending. Alexander is sturdy and I trust you completely.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam sat as bid, his face yet pale. “Very well, but if something happens, I will tell Elizabeth it was your fault.”
Darcy had lifted Alexander adeptly, the slumbering babe merely stretching slightly before nestling into the familiar warm shape of his father’s embrace. As always, Darcy’s heart swelled with a love indescribable and unique. Instantly, he was mesmerized by the breathing reality of his child, the living presence clutched close to his body, overwhelming his senses; his soul elevated by the tiny personality created with the woman he loved so profoundly.
Colonel Fitzwilliam observed his cousin, freshly amazed—even after the transitions of the past year—by how altered the serious, perpetually melancholic mien was that he had assumed was an integral trait in Darcy. Now it was entirely erased; Darcy, even in his intensity, displayed a tenderness and joy that was transparent. Richard privately challenged anyone who knew Darcy well to not be moved by the positive mutation of his character.
“Here he is, Richard. My son. Alexander William George Bennet Darcy. Did I not speak the truth in that he is amazing and adorable? Beautiful like his mother.” Darcy secured him into Richard’s arms, sitting on the chair beside and caressing one fingertip over the baby’s cheek.
“Yes, he is a highly attractive lad. He definitely has Elizabeth’s hair and nose, but he looks like you, Darcy. What about his eyes?”
“Blue, but shaped as his mother’s. He actually seems to be a fair mixture of us both, although I am sure his features will evolve as he matures.”
“Do not tell my sister I said this or I shall torture you, but he is far lovelier than any of her four children. Sadly, they inherited their father’s physical characteristics.”
Darcy smothered a laugh. “Shame, Richard. Lord Montgomery is a distinguished gentleman.”
